


Too Much Money, Too Little Tact

by missnewbooshie



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Blood, Community: badbadbathhouse, Denial of Feelings, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:45:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missnewbooshie/pseuds/missnewbooshie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kanji wasn't the only one lying to himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much Money, Too Little Tact

**Author's Note:**

> I messed up posting on lj pretty bad so I'm uploading to here as well.  
> Written for anon's prompt here: http://badx2bathhouse.livejournal.com/857.html?thread=2095705#t2095705  
> "Yosuke gets his ass kicked. Someone gets off on it."

Living in Inaba all his life, Kanji had grown accustomed to the small town’s collective xenophobia. Accustomed, yeah, but definitely not institutionalised. Facing his other self in the TV world had been enough of a challenge without having five complete strangers present to share in such an intimate situation. Even after the group had shared words of support and acceptance with him, Kanji still felt as though some part of each of them held back. Some part of them still rejected him.

It stung being around a group of people whose eyes never met his, who tiptoed around him, who outwardly teased him about it on occasion. He’d stuck with it so far out of a sense of duty; he had to solve the case after all and he knew he was one of the most physically capable on the team. Even if they couldn’t accept every part of him, his ego would have to rest until Inaba was safe again.

The camping trip was one of the times he’d let his guard down, sneaking away from his own tent to Yu and Yosuke’s. The three of them had been just joking around at first, playful digs at each other’s expense; Yu even agreed to let him stay the night in the end. From then it’d just seemed like every word that came out of Yosuke’s mouth had been laced with venom, verging on aggression. At the time, he had excused Yosuke’s tone, assuming he was just out of his mind with hunger. But then Kanji had caught his eye and the gaze that returned his was anything but welcoming.

He’d been replaying the subsequent argument they’d had that night for days after. The fact that Yosuke thought that of him and had been so open in telling Kanji without even Yu willing to correct him had just reinforced everything he’d come to  expect from Inaba. Yosuke coming from a big city, Kanji had thought maybe he would be more accepting. But Inaba was just a disease that inevitably spread itself into the hearts and minds of everyone residing there. Kanji thought it would eventually infect him too.

As the days went by, the need to prove himself became what fuelled him, pouring out of every inch of his being, desperate for Inaba not to beat him down. A real man wouldn’t let his environment limit and dictate him. A real man wouldn’t take shit from city boys with too much money and too little tact.

Before his mind had caught up with the pride clenched in his fists, Kanji found them pounding on the door of the large house with the weird roof. Maybe he shouldn’t be so rough; he’d only wanted to talk with Yosuke after all. The last thing he’d want to do is reinforce everything people thought of him; that he was a thug and a bully. Unclenching his fists, he took a breath and went to knock again – more softly this time – hoping the first knock went unheard somehow. The door opened before he had chance to make contact.

“Kanji?” Yosuke’s voice, though mostly questioning, somehow still maintained that hint of arrogance that naturally flowed from him whenever he opened his mouth. “the hell you doing here?” He didn’t sound angry, more surprised if anything, but Kanji still noticed how tense his shoulders were and the nervous look in his eyes. Kanji hoped it was more due to how intimidating he looked rather than knowing how Yosuke felt.

Kanji felt his words catch in his throat. He hadn’t really forged a plan that stretched further than knocking on Yosuke’s door. He’d half hoped no one was in; a busy day at Junes, a family reunion, a freak accident even. It hadn’t crossed his mind that nothing like that would happen on a Sunday until Yosuke was there in front of him, staring expectantly. Kanji rubbed the back of his neck, managing to say “I came to talk to you”.

 “Uh,” Yosuke closes the door a fraction and looks behind him into his house before looking back at Kanji, “…now?”

 “Why? You busy or something?” he said, more angry than he would have liked. Yosuke looked a little more uncomfortable and Kanji made an effort to soften his expression, mentally chastising himself. At least Yosuke seemed to notice and relaxed his posture, if only a little.

“No. But, uh…what about?” his expression was still sceptical. For some reason it pissed Kanji off more.

“What you said at the camping trip,” Kanji voice became a little harsher, thinking back to that night. Yosuke frowned, as if trying to remember. Did he really care that little about the shit that came out his mouth? “you know, when we were in the tent that night.” Yosuke looked momentarily panicked, his eyes scanning behind Kanji for eavesdroppers, probably.

“Jesus, dude, keep your voice down,” he hissed, leaning in close, “people might get the wrong idea.” 

Kanji was losing his patience. Part of him wanted to make a scene, to draw a crowd and humiliate Yosuke in front of them. To call him out on all of his bullshit in front of the town and show them he was more than just the pansy they thought he was. That’d solve nothing though and Kanji just wanted to make him understand. Didn’t mean it was any easier to control himself though.

Yosuke looked embarrassed enough already. “Look, let’s get out of the street, okay?” Yosuke says quietly, swinging the door open and stepping to the side to motion for Kanji to enter. Kanji would have refused, not wanting to spend more time in his presence than needed, but Yosuke’s annoyed expression told him it was probably the only way he’d get him to listen. Yosuke checks the street again before closing the door after Kanji steps through.

As Kanji starts to take off his shoes, Yosuke sighs and runs a hand over his face. “My room’s just upstairs, dude. We can talk there. Just…don’t touch anything.” Kanji wasn’t sure if he’d meant anything downstairs or in his room but Yosuke was halfway up the stairs by the time he’d thought to ask. Kanji ascends in just as quick a manner, his shoes left by the door. Yosuke leaves the door open behind him and Kanji watches as he goes over to his window, parting the curtains with his hand to look outside. “You expecting someone?” Kanji says, closing the door behind him.

Yosuke’s room is actually more modest than Kanji had thought but just as messy with magazines and cushions strewn across the floor. For some reason Yosuke was storing his bike indoors as well, blocking half his closet on the back wall. It was larger than Kanji had expected from Yosuke’s seemingly limited wardrobe so perhaps the bike wasn’t really that much of an inconvenience. A futon placed to Kanji’s immediate right with a desk opposite, a few feet away, covered in schoolwork and his music collection was stacked on the shelf above it. A table takes up the rest of the floor space in the center, with a TV facing it from the corner next to his desk, surrounded by posters of girls Kanji didn’t recognise.

Yosuke glances back to Kanji, “Just making sure I know where the exits are.” he pulls that smirk again and swings the chair from his desk around to sit facing Kanji. Kanji chooses to stand.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Yosuke laughs as if he’d somehow misconstrued the irritation in Kanji’s voice as a joke. Kanji’s temper begins to flare.

“Nothing, man. What did you come here for anyway?” Yosuke brings one of his knees to his chest, resting his foot on the edge of the seat and taps it to some unheard beat.

“I already told you,” Kanji mumbles “I just want to know if when you asked if you were safe, y’know, with me, that you’d actually thought I’d do shit like that.”

Yosuke’s foot stills as he frowns, not upset but not apologetic either. He lowers his foot back to the ground and leans back in his chair, “...what’re you getting at? You’re not trying to hit on me or something, right? Cause just because you’re in my room doesn’t mean you can try anything, man.” He laughs at his own joke. Arrogant bastard. Around the group, Kanji could at least try to interpret the crap he said as shitty attempts at attention seeking or an even shittier attempt at being funny. But then here they were, alone in his room and he was still running his mouth. Kanji wasn’t in the mood his shit today.

Crossing the room, he grabs the fabric of Yosuke’s shirt with both hands – too quick for Yosuke to realise – and hauls him to his feet, knocking his chair to the side. “The fuck you just say to me?” He spits, feeling Yosuke attempting to steady himself on the desk behind him. Kanji shakes him and repeats himself, making sure Yosuke absorbs every word. Yosuke’s surprise quickly reverts back to arrogance, smirking up at Kanji and shaking his head.

“Why does it matter anyway?” he says slowly, keeping eye contact with Kanji, “, why’d you care what I think so much, huh?” He held a fist against Kanji’s chest, trying to maintain at least some distance between them, and held the desk with his other.

“We’re solving this case together, you son of a bitch!” Kanji balls his fists tighter, probably permanently stretching Yosuke’s shirt but beyond care or reason now. Yosuke’s opinions didn’t matter to him as much as trying to work as a team did. If they couldn’t see past their individual issues, the chance of them ever bringing the killer to justice would decrease indefinitely. His thoughts, however, were too clouded to say this to Yosuke coherently.

Not that Yosuke seemed to care, in any case, as he snickered to himself. He looked away from Kanji, taking a moment to mutter something to himself. Kanji just hoped he would calm down, ready to apologise, so he could just leave Yosuke’s house and not have to talk with him anymore. But there wasn’t much hope of a peaceful resolution with Kanji still holding him on his toes by his shirt. When Yosuke finally did meet his eye again he’d kept the same expression. “Suck it up, man,” his tone hostile, unfazed by Kanji’s now violent exterior, “it’s not like I chose to work with some queer in the first place”.

Kanji felt the last of his control slip as he pushed him away hard, punching him clean across his face, a few CDs clatter to the floor as he yanks him from the edge of the desk and throws him down behind him by the front of his shirt. He follows suit and straddles him on the ground, one fist twisted in Yosuke’s shirt and the other raised in front of his face. Yosuke makes a choking gasp sound, screwing his eyes shut, hands palm-side up by his head and blood pouring from his nose. Kanji sees Yosuke’s mouth moving but making out the words is impossible over the adrenaline now flooding his ears. He tries to concentrate anyway, making out ‘fuck’, or maybe, ‘fucker’.

Any other day a potentially broken nose would have satisfied him but Kanji’s mind still hadn’t caught up with his body. Yosuke wipes the blood from below his nose, an incredulous look on his face as he brings his fingers to his eyes.

“That it?” he catches Kanji’s eye again “don’t tell me that limp wristed shit is-”

His fist connects with Yosuke’s jaw again before he finishes and he feels his anger flow out of him with it. Yosuke cries out, cursing as his head jerks back, connecting hard with the floor. Kanji brings his fist down again, a little harder this time, connecting with his mouth. Yosuke yells, whimpering as he brings his shaking fingers to his busted lip. Kanji’s thoughts begin to clear as he hits him once more on his cheekbone and again to his mouth. It had probably only been seconds but to Kanji he felt like Yosuke had been there under him for hours with his eyes tearing up and mouth quivering.

Fuck, they were supposed to be working together, to be able to trust each other. He lowers his fist as his anger subsides and panic begins to wash over him. Kanji was almost certain he’d hit him hard enough to bruise and the next time the group saw Yosuke he’d be kicked out for sure. He’d just wanted to talk, for him listen, to have them both compromise if they couldn’t agree. Now Yosuke’s face was messed up, his blood spattered on his floor and his shirt and Kanji felt sick.

He shakes out his fist, staring at his bloodied knuckles, thankful that at least his pain hadn’t kicked in yet. Sitting back on his heels he opens his mouth to prepare some kind of excuse to leave when Yosuke reaches out a hand and grabs the shoulder of his tank top. Kanji relaxes in his grip; the least he deserved was Yosuke to hit him back after all. Instead, Yosuke pulls him back down and leans up on one elbow to close the space between them, kissing Kanji hard on the mouth. The tang of Yosuke’s blood in his mouth immediately makes him want to throw up and Kanji’s eyes jolt open in surprise as he jerks away harshly.

“W-what the hell are you doing?” Kanji splutters, his voice still full of frustration. He feels his face burning but Yosuke says nothing only tightening his grip on Kanji’s shirt. He tries to push Yosuke away with a hand on his chest but with Yosuke’s hand still attached to Kanji’s shirt, he stays close enough for Yosuke to move his hand to grab the back of his head and crush their lips together again.

Despite the blood mixing with his spit, Kanji can’t help but notice how good Yosuke felt against him. The noises he was making, the warmth of his breath against his lips, even the pull of his fingers in his hair. It scared him to think that he was actually enjoying this. It terrifies him to know that he was getting hard because of it. Kanji finds himself being slowly lowered back down until Yosuke’s back is flat to the floor and Kanji leans over him, one hand either side of Yosuke’s head, supporting himself while he lowers himself onto his forearms. Yosuke takes his hand away from Kanji’s head but it doesn’t bother him much as Yosuke kisses him again, sliding his tongue against Kanji’s. He feels Yosuke’s breath shudder against his mouth with a sound too lewd to have come from someone like him.

Kanji feels Yosuke’s feet shifting below him, pressing his thighs against Kanji’s ass. Yosuke’s breath comes out more ragged now and Kanji feels his legs trembling against him. His movements, too, become more frantic as Kanji registers what sounds like him forcing down the zip of his jeans. Was Yosuke seriously getting off to this; his mouth full of blood and a half-bruised face? Yosuke who – not even ten minutes ago – had been spitting slurs in his face.

Kanji wondered whether Yosuke had planned on this happening when he’d answered the door to find Kanji standing there. Whether he’d imagined them being alone like this; pumped with adrenaline, his hand shoved down the front of his own underwear, moving his mouth against Kanji’s. Whether Yosuke fantasised about Kanji beating the shit out of him and fucking him after, his face pressed to the floor and Kanji’s fingers bruising his hips. The thought alone was making Kanji more aroused than he was willing to admit.

The situation felt all wrong. Every part of Kanji’s mind screamed that this wasn’t healthy, it didn’t make sense. Yosuke was perhaps the biggest scumbag he knew. He’d never met someone who pissed him off so much after so little time of actually being around them. He was smug, callous and self-involved but the way Yosuke was moaning now, even with his cheek bruised and lip swollen, was too much for Kanji to make sense of. Especially since their bodies were so close now that the back of Yosuke’s hand was brushing lightly against his erection.

“Dammit, you’re really getting off to this?” he manages to say against Yosuke’s cheek. Yosuke grabs the front of his jeans in response and Kanji lets out a shaky breath.

“Looks like you are too.” He replies, pressing his lips to Kanji’s neck.

Kanji presses against Yosuke as he allows a moan to pass his lips. He reaches between their bodies to unbutton himself but his fingers refuse to cooperate. Yosuke must have noticed his voice becoming more frustrated, more desperate, as he pulls away from Kanji and moves his hand aside. Yosuke moves his gaze down between their bodies as he tries to undo his jeans. Kanji can’t help but follow his gaze, moaning softly when Yosuke finally pulls his zipper down.

The angle is awkward but, after a few seconds of shuffling, Yosuke manages to slip his hand under the waistband of Kanji’s underwear. Kanji curses, his chin against Yosuke’s forehead as he grasps Kanji’s dick. His moves are slow as he works his hand along Kanji’s length. He presses his thumb to the underside, every squeeze to his head making Kanji shudder obscenely. He’s almost ashamed of how close he is.  Kanji buries his face into the crook of Yosuke’s neck, his breath only adding to the unbearable heat between them. Yosuke hooks his chin over Kanji’s shoulder and quickens his pace. Kanji comes finally after a series of deliberate jerks from Yosuke, spilling onto his hand and their shirts.

Yosuke pulls his hand away as if he’d been burnt. “Dude, are you serious? A little warning would have been nice.” He grabs a handful of Kanji’s shirt, attempting to wipe his hand clean with it.

Kanji’s cheeks flare red. “Shut up, will ya,” he sits back on his heels, placing a hand on Yosuke’s thighs, “let me help you too.” His voice is hesitant; he feels Yosuke’s eyes on him but doesn’t want to risk meeting them.

“S-sure. Just hurry it up, okay?”

Yosuke presses his cheek to the floor, eyes shut and brow tightened. Kanji ignores his expression; the thought of making Yosuke come was more appealing than arguing with him again right now. Kanji hooks his fingers under the waistband of Yosuke’s underwear, sliding them down past his hips with his jeans. Yosuke moans, looking painfully hard with his erection taut against his stomach.  Kanji leans over Yosuke and presses his lips to the corner of his mouth, clutching his hair with one hand while the other wraps around Yosuke’s dick. He begins to move his hand, a little rough at first, earning a groan from Yosuke. Kanji drags his lips down to his neck, feeling Yosuke’s throat vibrating beneath them. His chest was heaving, his voice breaking and Kanji supposed he was nearing his limit. God, he didn’t last long at all. Eager to just have Yosuke finish, he strokes him faster and bites down on his neck: soft enough not to leave a mark but hard enough that Yosuke tenses almost immediately and cries out. “I’m, uh…fuck, I-” he comes before he can finish his sentence.

They stay like that for a few moments, Kanji’s mouth on his neck and hand on his dick and Yosuke breathing hard with his eyes closed and mouth agape. When Yosuke finally does open his eyes he presses his hand to Kanji chest, signalling to give him some air. Using his arms, Kanji slowly pushes against the floor to sit back on his feet. He pulls his legs from under him and lands back on his ass, slumped against the futon behind him. Yosuke pulls his jeans back on and sits up, smoothing down his hair.

 “Man, I liked this shirt too,” he mutters, pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it over to Kanji. “well, you might as well clean yourself up before you leave.”

 “Leave?” he wrings Yosuke’s shirt in his hands, “aren’t we gonna talk about what just happened? Your face, I mean.”

Yosuke brings his fingers to his cheek as if just now remembering and chuckles softly. “Yeah, you really pack a punch.”

Kanji sighs. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have got so worked up. I didn’t know you were…well,” he waves his hands in a nonchalant way, “you know.”

Kanji assumes that his vague hand gestures had translated over to Yosuke as his smile fades to a look resembling something between angry and embarrassed. “Y-you think I’m–no way, man,” he stutters, “it’s just that I haven’t jacked off in a while and Chie turned me down last time, so.” He just doesn’t quit, excuses tumbling out of his mouth as if he’d rehearsed them.

“Yeah, well, maybe Saki wasn’t the only thing you were kidding yourself about,” Kanji stands, roughly zipping his jeans back up and strides to the door, “sort out your own problems next time and leave me the fuck out of it.”

“Kanji, wait,” he does and Yosuke looks over to him, eyes desperate “you’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

“Screw you.”

Kanji swings the door shut behind him, hearing Yosuke shout his name a few more times from his bedroom and storms off. He’d known Yosuke was narrow-minded in his beliefs but he hadn’t realised just how delusional the guy was. With every step he descends, the lighter he feels until he reaches the front door and grabs his shoes, not bothering to put them on. He opens the door and slams it behind him. The tarmac outside hurts his feet but Kanji can’t bring himself to care. 


End file.
